"Thou teachest yet, then, out of thy vocation. But thou art no more than thou ever hast been,—too much for thy old master. And as wrens fly faster and creep stealthier than owls, so art thou already whole heavens beyond me."
But with tender scornfulness, Seraphael put out his hand in deprecation, and throwing back his hair, buried his head in the cushion of the carriage and shut his eyes. Nor did he again open them until we entered our little town.
I need scarcely say I watched him; and often, as in a glassy mirror, I see that face again upturned to the light,—too beautiful to require any shadow, or to seek it,—see again the dazzling day draw forth its lustrous symmetry, while ever the soft wind tried to lift those deep locks from the lucid temples, but tried in vain; what I am unable to picture to myself in so recalling being the ever restless smile that played and fainted over the lips, while the closed eyes were feeding upon the splendors of the Secret. I shall never forget either, though, how they opened; and he came, as it were, to his childlike self again as the light carriage—light indeed for Germany—dashed round the Kell Platz, where its ponderous contemporaneous contradictions were ranged, and took the fountain square in an unwonted sweep. Then he sat forward and watched with the greatest eagerness, and he sprang out almost before we stopped.
"I think Carl and I could save you these stairs, master mine," he exclaimed. "Let us carry you up between us!"
But what do you think was the reply? Seraphael had spoken in his gleeful voice. But Aronach wore his gravest frown as he turned and pounced suddenly upon the other,—whipping him up in his arms, and hoisting him to his shoulder, then speeding up the staircase with his guest as if the weight were no greater than a flower or a bird! I could not stir some moments from astonishment and alarm, for I had instantaneous impressions of Seraphael flying over the balusters; but presently, when his laugh came ringing down,—and I realized it to be the laugh of one almost beside himself with fun,—I flew after them, and found them on the dark landing at the foot of our own flight. Seraphael was now upon his feet, and I quite appreciated the delicate policy of the old head here. He said in a moment, when his breath was steady,—
"Now, if they offer to chair thee again at the Quartzmayne Festival, and thou turnest giddy-pate, send for me!"
"I certainly will, if they offer such an honor; but once is quite enough, and they will not do it again."
"Why not?"
"Because I fell into the river, and was picked up by a fisherman; and desiring to know my character after I was dead, I made him cover me with his nets and row me down to Carstein, quite three miles. There I supped with him, and slept too, and the next morning heard that I was drowned."
"Oh! one knows that history, which found its way into a certain paper among the lies, and was published in illustration of the eccentricities of genius."